Sagacity Unbroken: The Shichidō Heresy
by Endfall
Summary: In a world where Naruto attacked Gaara without restraint, in a world where the Namikaze are of blood as noble as any other great clan, in a world where a single, horrific tragedy created a path of empathy between Naruto and Sasuke, I wonder: What might have been? AU kicks in from the sound invasion onwards. Grey Naruto! Kickass Sasuke! Darker World! Unique Bijuu! Not slash, sorry.
1. Prologue

There are four families who can trace their heritage back to the Rikudou Sennin. Of these families; it can be said that they fall into two categories. Category the first; Bearers of the Eyes. Category the second; Bearers of the Potential.

_Uzumaki._

_Senjuu._

_Uchiha._

_Hyuuga._

These are those clan's names. The first two, descended from the second son: he who gained not the spiritual and mental prowess of the Sage, but his physical attributes instead— The Senju with their abnormally potent chakra, the Uzumaki with their unnaturally long lives. The last two, tracing their lineage back to the first son, he of the whirlpool eyes— The Hyuuga, who see further than even the sage, but with less insight. The Uchiha, who see more deeply, but with less clarity.

This is the accepted view of the Four Great Clans. But, is it complete? Is this the sum total of the Doujutsu and Teijutsu in the world, or, might there be another?

The heretical stories of a third child of the Sage, though universally outlawed by the Daimyo are nevertheless known. A daughter, inheriting the body and mind of the sage, both the spirituality and physicality, and who was killed by her brothers while still young, for they did not want another competitor for the inheritance of the Jyuubi. Those who believe in this story claim that _this_ more than anything else, was why the sage declared neither of his sons unworthy of it's immense power: An innocent child, murdered in cold blood by her own brothers, for a prize she was too young to understand.

Known as the Shichido Heresy, this story is as much a part of the living myth of the sage as any other, and yet strangely irrelevant at the same time: at such an age, she may never have born children.

I, however, question this view. Records are scarce, but discrepant versions of the heresy exist, that the daughter was not murdered, but killed in battle, that she had gained the power to lay her brothers low, and that they feared her strength. Ah, such a myth would never survive in the patriarchal world of civilians, but to shinobi? Why, It is not only plausible. It is the most realistic version available.

The Sage of the Six Path is the Father of Shinobi, the power, the vigour and strength, embodied perfectly in his legendary doujutsu, the _Rinnegan_.

Now, I ask: Is it so strange to think our kind have a mother? A shadow, to the sage's wrath? A poison, to the Sage's prowess?

There are scattered tales, rumours, almost— but to call them that is to fail to see the truth. They are rumours, because they are scattered, and for this reason only. When brought together, they form a picture, and it's shape is that of a clan. They appear like demons when they come, and when they vanish, nobody sees them go. With blond hair and eyes that see too much, they effortlessly slaughter and vanish, never leaving their dead, never explaining from whence they came, or why.

Once, it is said they destroyed an entire hidden village: I have seen the ruins. Once, it is said one was found, staring at the sun. When asked what she was looking at, she replied, '_Something a millionfold elder to all the ages of man._'

It is of course known that the sun must be at least one million years old, far older than humans have recorded history.

However, this second story, when traced back to it's roots, precedes that knowledge by two hundred years— and further suggests a minimum age of one _billion_ years for the sun. Such an age is known to be _required_ by the most cutting-edge works by the most prominent Onmyou Philosophers— but I digress.

In all of these legends, there is a single unifying element— somewhere, sometimes on their backs, sometimes on bands around their wrists was an oddly poetic turn of phrase. In the present day, perhaps in gestalt recognizance of the truth, we use it to define 'discord'. However, composed of two characters, it may be read as a family name.

And that name, is Namikaze.

The inheritors of the Sagacity Unbroken.

If this be true, then Uzumaki Naruto, child of Uzumaki Kushina, son of the Yondaime Hokage Namikaze Minato, is the last of that blood.

**―**_Personal Journal of the Sandaime Hokage_

* * *

A spiraling curl of steam wafted up from the edges of her cup, rising through the air and thinning until it could no longer be seen. In front of her, the book sat on the table, innocuos with it's lack of cover, the mid-grade paper it was made of already beginning to darken slightly with age. Still, she closed it with slghtly trembling hands.

"This," she said, her voice just barely quivering, "Means _nothing_."

She placed the book back down on the table, and slid it across the aged wooden surface, until the gloved hand of her companion at the table came out to grab it. Wordlessly, he tucked it into a fold on his kimono, the barest flex of chakra being the only thing that gave away that it had be sealed.

Then, fluidly, he placed his hands back on the table, held carefully apart— a common courtesy amongst Shinobi, and also a message to her that he _was_ such a person.

She sighed, and picked up her cup, pulling at the hot liquid within and letting it run over her tounge, savouring the bitterness when her companion finally chose to speak.

"Doesn't it?"

She paused, her hand flexing involuntarily into a fist, before she managed to surpress it's motion and take a steadying breath.

"Uzumaki Naruto is dead. The Namikaze went extinct when the Yondaime died. The Uzumaki are dead, and I don't care what you look like. You don't have the characteristics of a Jinchuuriki, and you— you _aren't_ him!" She finished with a hiss.

Her companion finally turned his head to look directly at her, and she flinched. His face was entirely devoid of expression, and that drew her gaze to his eyes.

The irises were green.

Medical-chakra green.

It was one of the more unsettling things she had ever seen.

"And how," he said suddenly, drawing her from her thoughts, "Have you come to that conclusion?"

The question, so emotionlessly delivered, honestly threw her.

"I know the Iryo-nin who performed that autopsy," she answered, "Personally. He doesn't make mistakes like that."

Her companion continued to stare at her, first for ten seconds, then thirty, then a minute passed. Then, the corners of his lips quirked up.

"This one was always fascinated by the techniques of the two more... _private_ members of the Densetsu no Sannin," he said, "Orochimaru's work, though disgusting, is the only example of a human soul undergoing incarnation into a Tenma. But it was always the work of the princess of the Senju that most intrigued me. Not medical techniques. Medical techniques are something that are unfortunately, forever beyond this one's reach. But..."

He turned his gaze back across the table, and there, on his left cheek, was a single black line, slowly lengthening. It stretched across his cheek until it had almost reached the back of his jaw, stopped, and then a second line began to appear. Completely unconcerned, he took a sip of his tea as the second line completed itself.

"_Specifically_," he continued, "This one was always fascinated by her ability to create Genjutsu with form." And a third line began drawing itself out. "Of course, this one is just a wandering traveller. It took many years. But in time, the secret of the technique was discovered."

The third line completed, and the mark of the Kyuubi's jinchuuriki was exposed to the world for all of a second, and he turned his head to her again, opening his eyes to reveal a different, glacial colour.

The colour of the Yondaime's eyes.

"And, ah yes. Didn't you know? The Shiki Fuuin can be drawn by mortal hands. You only need the God of Death if you intend to seal something in it alive." He leaned in close and whispered. "_Creating a false corpse was simple, and with something as unique as the seal on his stomach identifying him, nobody ever thought to do a proper genetic workup. Uzumaki Naruto... **I**... am very much alive._"

And he leaned back, returning to his tea, his tone casual. "Of course, if you don't want to believe me, that's entirely up to you. How about a little wager?"

"Oh?" She said, unable to quite stop herself.

"Yes— I'll tell you my story. All of it. I won't leave a single thing out. If you don't believe in me by the end of it, then, for wasting your time and pulling up painful memories, you may extract whatever retribution you wish from me. Financial, visceral, with violence— what have you."

"And if I do believe in you..." She said slowly.

"Absolutely nothing. It's literally a game that you can not loose." He smirked. Draining the rest of his tea quickly. As she considered the offer. She had no obligation to listen to him, but at the same time... Well, he _looked_ like money. Ultimately, she decided, "Heh. You're on."

He nodded, and signalled for a waiter. "A private room please."

Within a few moments, it was done. Then, once the door shut behind them, he relaxed, sitting cross-legged as opposed to the more formal _Seiza_ he had adopted in public.

"Now... how to start?" The man murmured in contemplation, before smiling.

"Ah, yes. You need to understand something. Jiraiya is not a bad man."

And with that strange opening, he begun his tale.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Completely rewrote the second section of the prologue. Originally, it featured Angstastic!Naruto reacting to Sarutobi's Diary... Which, when considering much of the tone of what I had already written, did not match the harmony of this story _at all_. Thanks go to Jason Carter on TVTropes for pointing this out.


	2. Ch 1: The Future and The Ichibi

**Chapter One: The Future and Ichibi  
**

* * *

You need to understand something. Jiraiya is not a bad man. He didn't neglect me for twelve years. He made sure that no one had a clue Konoha had a jinchuriki for nine— And then, when the Kyuubi failed to reform, he made sure that not a single soul knew who it was. He composed vast, superficially functional seals that seemed (and _only_ seemed) to allow the creation of adult jinchuuriki, and leaked just enough of them to make it seem unintentional, but to give other seal masters an understanding of their function. He used hypnosis genjutsu to make former clients of Konoha begin talking about chunin with red chakra that felt like rage. He forged photography, documentation, communiques and more.

And all this, while effectively operating as an intelligence agency contained in a single human body. Jiraiya, even more than Orochimaru, stands as living proof that the title that Hanzou the Salamander had graced his team with had not been in vain.

And that, really was the problem.

Jiraiya saved my life probably more times than I will ever know. He did not know me, and while he kept me breathing, that said nothing of my quality of life.

Call it the difference between living and surviving, if you like. The net result?

Well, I'm me. Let's say that _that_ was the net result. Not that I mind too much, you know, the butterfly effect— a moth flapping it's wings in Sunagakure, a typhoon on the southern coasts of Mizu.

If even a single thing had changed, then things would be different, and that would probably be bad. Or perhpas not. Perhaps, I would have ended up living a life in the lap of luxury from six month of age onward. Ha. Yeah right. The point is, saying something could've been different is meaningless. Even a single altered footstep effects a million variables, and the consequences of a floorboard not creaking on that one assassination mission could be bloodline genocide in kumo two decades later.

You can't know. So don't regret the past. That's my shinobi creed. But where were we?

Ah, yes. Jiraiya.

Jiraiya left Konoha for over a decade, building and maintaining his spy network so impressive that intelligence analysts everywhere thought we spent over forty percent of our true budget on espionage alone, when, in truth, it was being run by a single, womanising old man who wrote erotic literature in his spare time, and who often couldn't even afford the price of the watered down swill that the inkeepers of the world call sake.

It takes an extraordinary amount of dedication to achieve those kinds of results, you know. Nothing short of absolute loyalty would cut it— I can't even imagine how far he degraded himself in the service of his country on a day-to-day besis, nor do I care to. It was as amazing, as, ultimately, it was wasted. Because in the game of intelligence, if a single truth slips though the cracks then the hole created by it's absence allows a skilled manipulator to create a web of lies, and Orochimaru and the Akatsuki were more than capable of finding those cracks.

But even if his work was for naught, you need to know this bit of his history. It tells you the kind of man Jiraiya is: Tough, pragmatic, and ruthlessly, brutally dedicated to his village before all else. He wasn't always like that— but then his student's students had died, his best friend had betrayed him and the woman he truly loved left him for a life of gambling and cheap alcohol. Something that one might argue, was a bit of a overeaction on her part.

Oh don't look at me like that. I know people who have lost just as much but still at least _tried_ to continue. Now—

Was it really so hard, then, to see where this man, a man almost unrecognizable as the screwoff who had once been the least effective of all the Sandaime's students, had come from? Is it so hard to see this man, who watched the one triumph of his miserable life, the Yondaime Hokage, throw away his life for the Village to decide, '_Then, serving the village before all else is the definition of virtue?_'

Because, that is what he decided. The proof is in the telling. When I was eight, Jiraiya thwarted a combined Kumo-Kusa plot to assasinate the leading clan heads of Konoha. During that period, I almost died three times. Twice, I was saved by the ANBU, but that last time?

That was my first kill.

Yes, I think if he had known me personally, it might've made a difference. But the bottom line is, he weighed my life against Konoha's well-being and found me wanting.

It was the right choice. And it was the choice of a man who had been forged by watching everything he loved— all but one— fall to shreds.

So, after Sarutobi Hiruzen's death, Jiraiya left Konoha in search of his other teammate and he did it without his sometimes student. After all, despite his success against Gaara of the Sand and his outwardly cheerful attitude, the Uzumaki Naruto he had come to know was little more than a sometimes-effective, unintelligent brawler who had managed to use the power of his own superior Bijuu to force an insane Junchuuriki down. And he had fully demonstrated all the typical bloodlust that any other jinchuuriki had when doing it.

He had expected a lot of Minato's son.

I had let him down.

More to the point though, I couldn't help him retrieve his target. I had no quality that could win her over. I was useless to him, and as a hanger on, might even cause the mission to fail if I ran my mouth at the wrong time. He had no reason to take me with him, and so, he didn't.

That was the day that changed the world.

But as for how he came to that conclusion?

Well, to be frank, it was just me and my comrades completely loosing our collective shit.

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

When the invasion of Konoha began, things started happening very fast. Chaos descended upon the town like a tsunami, dragging everyone and everything into a confused, discordant battle. Sakura fell early on, knocked unconscious by a lightning jutsu that was ultimately non-lethal. I took her to a relatively secluded spot while Sasuke single-handedly dispatched an entire team of Sound Nin, who despite their older age were, by his own words, "Worse than Academy students."

Eventually, we managed to close in on the sand trio, and gave a heavily wounded team 10 the window necessary to retreat. Sasuke and I stood, facing off against them.

It was at that moment that the worst possible thing happened.

The leaves rustled, and a short boy popped out of them, tripping over his scarf and tumbling to his feet. Sarutobi Konohamaru. To this day, I don't know how he learned of our mission or our location.

To this day, I don't know why he decided to come.

But what happened next will remain with me forever.

He began to stand up, looking over to me, and— **a wave of sand in the shape of a maw moved towards him**— he said— **it opened**- "Hey boss—" **I dashed towards him, trying desperately to get there in time**— "I came to help—" and he turned to the maw, dropping into an academy taijutsu stance— **and I made a final desperate lunge**— and the wave of sand closed over him—

And I had failed.

And he screamed, once. High pitched, before his voice was cut off forever.

Blood in a torrent fell from the maw, as Gaara began to cackle. "Yes, _yes_! Mother so loves when I add the bones to the mix!"

I dropped to my knees. Temari and Kankuro stared at their brother in horror, backing away before Temari made a quick hand signal and they jumped over to our side.

"Don't misunderstand us, Konoha-nin," Kankuro said, "But if he don't fight with you, all of our chances of survival go down. When he's like this..."

I felt a sudden burst of absolute malevolence from Sasuke, and somewhere, in the back of my head, I heard the voice of a demon fox— "_**I GIVE THIS FREELY.**_"

And then the horror was muted, replaced by anger, which deepened to rage as I stood up, staring at the person who I had thought of as a counterpart.

"Gaara." I said, "It looks like I was wrong about you after all. I thought you could be reasoned with— but it's obvious you're just a rabid dog that needs to be put down!"

"Dobe," Sasuke snarled, "If you don't kill him first—" The sound of a thousand birds filed the air.

And Gaara just laughed, "Come, Uzumaki! Uchiha! Sister, brother! Come and let me prove my existence!"

And so the battle was fucking _on_. I dashed laterally to one side, avoiding a hail of sand projectiles that came in behind me even as I took to the trees and leapt into the air, forming a single familiar seal as I surrounded Gaara with clones and began weaving in and out of them. At the same moment, Temari summoned a weasel, it's scythe actually causing Gaara to bleed. Kankuro had vanished behind a genjutsu somewhere, and Sasuke stood stock-still, the flame-like brands of the curse seal dancing across his skin as he pulled more, and more, and more chakra from it, corroding his lifespan to fuel a dark Chidori that sang with terrible power. At some point, the weasel disappeared, and my clones, without any command on my part, began to engage Gaara in melee to keep him occupied. As they fell, I kept creating a steady flow of them, my chakra being returned to me as they were destroyed one by one, and sometimes by the dozen. As they died, I began to see pattern in Gaara's attacks, and after longer still _openings_.

I took a chance, and sent a clone in. It managed to get past the sand and actually hit Gaara, and I nodded, jumping back and running through a sting of twelve seals and slamming my fist into the ground.

There was a blast of smoke, and then a toxic yellow toad wielding two swords appeared, saying "Gamadachi at yer service, lord summoner!"

"Gamadachi," I shouted, "The sand user is the enemy. When the black haired lightning user begins to charge, draw his attention. When the main part of the sand cloud is above his head, it's safe to strike at his arms. When it's surrounding his back, his neck is vulnerable from the front. Go!"

"Aye, milord!" Gamadachi shouted, leaping into the fray. I made two hundred shadow clones in after him, and looked around before I finally found Temari leaning against a tree on strangely dark soil, one hand over he stomach. I leapt over to her, and asked, "Any chance you can summon that weasel again?"

She looked up to me, eyes wide before seeming to remember that I was now an ally, then nodded sharply— but why would she be afraid...?

I glanced back down at the dark patch of dirt, and understood. She was bleeding out. _How_ I still don't know— Gaara was never big on slashing attacks. But, the truth remained. "Do you have any bandaged in your kit!" I asked. She shook her head, and I swore, before shrugging out of the jacket and handing it to her— I had no shirt on underneath. Konoha is hot, wearing unnessecary layers was something that was drilled out of us from the start. "Use this. If we live through this, I swear that I'll see you get proper medical attention. Wait for my signal to summon."

"Understood." She whispered— but with determination. I nodded, and asked one last question— my clones were running out, and I needed to get back. "Your brother. Where would he be, what's he trying to do?"

"Poison cocktail, Waiting for the sand armour to be pierced." she replied, then added "_This wasn't how it was supposed to happen._"

Not actually having anything to say to that, I nodded, and shot off, heading back into the battle zone— and at that moment, Sasuke finally finished _whatever_ it was that he had been doing with the curse seal to power up the chidori, and with a bestial roar, he charged, completely, _absolutely_ black lightning tearing gouges in the ground as he blitzed forward. At the same moment, I made forty shadow clones in the opposite direction, and Gamadachi moved in with what would have been a debilitating blow if not for the sand armour. To add even further to the pandemonium, I leapt to a nearby tree, and began flinging Shuriken and Kunai at him.

Alone, none of the attacks would have done anything. Together, they drew Gaara's attention, and he only noticed Sasuke in the last second— and by then, it was too late. Sasuke's hand burst through Gaara's chest, though his heart, obsidian lightning discharging through the insane shinobi's body and into the clear blue sky, his sand armour melting into glass and before exploding off as Sasuke's hand shot out of his back. At the same moment a gigantic puppet shaped vaguely like Kankuro appeared from a blur in the air, and sunk a blade into Gaara's back.

Sasuke pulled his hand out, and everything fell silent as Gaara dropped to his knees, and then fell face-first onto the ground.

Silence spread through the torn up clearing where we had fought, and Kankuro stepped out of another blur in the air.

"Is it over?" He asked.

And then, Gaara began to laugh. It had a manic quality to it, as he pushed himself jerkily over onto his back, ranting to himself. "Yes, yes, _YES_! This... this is what I wanted! The ultimate bloodbath! Here, I will make my name and this entire COUNTRY WILL **BURN**! Mother! Grant me your strength!"

Something happened, and the air grew heavier, then pulsed. Gaara closed his eyes— and when they opened, they had become cold, hateful, and absolutely, _utterly_ inhuman, an aquiline cross and black, four yellow dots and the identity of hate.

"**WE**_ee_**E**_lll_." Said the thing inhabiting Gaara's body, "**I**_ii_**S**_n_'_t_**T** **T**_hhh_**ISSS**_s aa_ **T**_reee_**EE**_a_**AT**!"

The thing floated up, off the ground, and then righted itself in mid-air, a strange wind unsettling it's clothes as flecks of obsidian sand flowed together over the hole in it's chest, coalescing into a slowly beating heart, fully exposed to the air for a moment before more of the stuff wove together like thread replacing the muscle, and skin grew over it. It looked at us with an alien indifference, as if we were nothing to it.

Until it laid it's eyes on me.

In a single second, it had crossed the ten metre gap between us, and it hovered in front of my face, studying it intently. Then it smiled widely. "**K**_eeek_**KE**_e_**EK** **KEK**— **KA**_aaaa_**HAHA**_h_**AH**_ha_**HAHHAHAA**_a_!" It laughed, "**S**_o_**OO** _eve_**N** _the_ **N**_in_**TH** _suucuummmmb_**SS** _to_ **THIS FATE**."

I thought about it for a moment, and then, calmly and without any preamble, said, "Temari? Now."

I single lance of air came from the left and slammed into Gaara's demon-possesed form with a ferocity, far, far above the first time I had seen the weasel— no, I realized, the_ Kamataichi_— in action, and separated his legs from his body.

I realized it had been a mistake when, instead of falling apart, a black ring of the same obsidian sand formed around Gaara's waist, sinking into him and leaving unblemished skin when it did so. The thing behind those terrible eyes grinned manically.

"**IM**_m_**PRE**_e_**SS**_si_**V**_e_! **S**_h_**OW** **M**_ee_**E** **M**_m_**MMMO**_ree_**E**!"

It took a step forward, obsidian sand armour forming over it's body, sharp, jagged edges protruding against the air in a hateful mess of alien lines— and then it began to grow.

I edged away, but it slowly began to gain on me, and in a single, desperate move, I substituted myself with a shadow clone, buying me just enough time to run through twelve familiar seals for the second time in the day. This time, I put my all into it, pouring every last drop of free chakra into the technique.

There was a howl of absolute rage as the ground seemed to shoot up, and push at me before finally stopping, and when the Chakra smoke had cleared, I stood on Gamabunta's head, staring at a now equally large tanuki of slowly chruning earth, covered in black markings from head to toe.'

"**You! You'll PAY, for making me show this form, pathetic worm!**" Strangely, it's voice had become much clearer. I shrugged, as Gamabunta drew his giant knife, wordlessly understanding my intent.

And I shouted, "Bring it on!"

The demon charged, and I entered the final stage of the battle that would begin my legend.

* * *

**********************Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse! IT WAITS.**

* * *

**Revision Notes:**

And now, the two sane sand siblings aren't quite so OOC as in the previous draft. In the original copy of this chapter, I had them fighting to kill Gaara for some assinie reason. Now, they are fighting for their very survival.


	3. Ch 2: The Demon

_Moonspeak Glossolalia:_

_Hebi: Snake  
Zettai = Absolute_  
_Shinkuu = Vacuum_

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Demon  
**

* * *

"**KIIIIIILLLLL YOUUUU!**" The demon screamed, a massive arm of sand shooting past us as Gamabunta smoothly dodged and then leapt out of the way.

"Kid, I've got one question for you," Gamabunta said as his webbed hands shot through seals and he spewed a dark brown fountain of oil at the giant demon, dodging out of the way of a multitude of thin obsidian lances with the smallest movements possible, "_ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND⁉_"

"Ehehe, Why're your asking that, Gamabunta-sama?" I asked, tacking on the honorific because, seriously, he sounded _pissed_.

"I may be the toad boss, but I only have as much chakra as a few Kages! You don't know any of the toad arts— there's no way we can win against this," he said, taking another gigantic leap as a spike of sand impaled where we had been.

"Tell me what you need, then!" I shouted, hurling a cloud of clones into the beast's barrage, "I'm sure that between all of us, we can improvise something."

"Oh, _something_!" Gamabunta muttered, hurling a shadow copy of his knife at the sand beast, "Fine, kid. Let's play ball. Get me a massive blast of fire. _**NOW!**_"

"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" I shouted, making a small army of clones to spread out and search for Sasuke. The shot off as the demon roared, the air twisting around it, compacting as layer upon layer of ferocious wind was pulled into a wavering, distorted sphere.

"Gamabunta..."

"I know, brat. Brace yourself— this one's going to be bad."

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

A clone jumped down to the forest floor, running between the trees as massive sounds of impact came down from above, the ground occasionally rumbling as the demon from Gaara took massive, lumbering steps. He was almost destroyed when, without any warning sand spikes began to pierce the ground under his feet, but the first one missed, giving him time to jump up into the canopy and run along the trees— and them moments later, obsidian missiles, lances of black rock shot at him from the Ichibi, even as it stopped, and began preparing something ugly— That monstrous chakra was by far larger than even the Hebi Sannin's.

The clone swore, but felt Sasuke's Chakra signature closing in on it from ahead... But something was wrong, twisted, distorted, _demonic_— he jumped out of the way as an arc of black lightning flashed through the space his head was a moment before.

"Kuso—!" He said, cutting off as another bolt of lightning crossed the space where his head had been, "Saaa—" he bent backwards as another bolt of lightning tried to decapitate him, "—suuuukkeeee...!" He took three steps and made a running leap into the air, spinning around another lightning bolt and getting a glance at his teammate for the first time. His eyes were bloodshot and crazed, and he was bleeding a black, bile-like substance from numerous cuts on his face.

"CLENCH—"

Another bolt of lightning shot from from Sasuke's fingertips, a Fuuma shuriken right behind it. The clone managed to push off a branch got around the lethal attack and grabbed the Fuuma shuriken behind it from the air-

"YOUR—"

He tossed the Fuuma Shuriken back at Sasuke, using some of his limited chakra to create a shadow double, the two spinning pin-wheels forcing Sasuke to move to a certain point as the clone clenched his hand into a fist-

"TEETH!"

And delivered an absolutely devastating punch to Sasuke's face, sending him sprawling into a tree trunk with enough force to crack the bark.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then, Sasuke coughed weakly, and the curse seal began to return to it's dormant state. He trembled before he began to push himself to his feet "Dobe... _what_—"

"No time for that," The clone said, walking over and pulling Sasuke up. "We need you to drop the largest fire technique you have on the sand monster. It doesn't have to be strong, just fucking huge. Got it?"

Sasuke nodded weakly.

"Good. Now, hop on."

"...what?" Sasuke asked blankly.

"Just because you have enough Chakra to do that fire jutsu doesn't mean that seal hasn't all but killed you. Get. on. my. back. Sasuke."

Sasuke scowled, then wordlessly, as if every motion caused him great wounds to his dignity, climbed on. The clone scowled, but instead of saying anything, it began to run back to Gamabunta— only to almost immediately be disrupted by an obsidian javelin. Sasuke began to fall when another clone grabbed him by the trademark Uchiha collar, and the journey continued unabated— Until suddenly, with unbelievable violence, something detonated overhead. A gale of wind knocked both Sasuke and the clone off balance, sending them tumbling to the forest floor.

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

**"FUUTON: ZETTAI SHINKUU!"** The demon shouted. And then there was no air. I tried to hold my breath in. I tried to, but the world tore it away. Frantically, as my instincts overrode everything, I tried to breath in, but my lungs wouldn't open at all, and slowly, my vision began to turn red.

...

My blood, I realised. I was seeing my blood. Misting from my eyes and cuts. Hahaha, no... this isn't...

...

The world was going dark. Weakly, there was a voice, but it wasn't saying anything important. No? I refuse to let you die? I refuse to let you take me? Hah... what does that even...

...

A white haired demon or god hovered over me, raising it's knife.

And in that moment, something flexed, and broke, and something humid and absolute descended on us. Air. Air! I took a deep breath, then another, and another still— and like a hammer, light colour reason sense and everything that made life, _life_ returned to me. The god grinned and vanished, and as I remembered what was going on over the sand demon's howls of rage, I stood back up— at some point I had fallen over, and Gamabunta asked, "Hey, kid? You still all there?"

"Oh, I am _now_," I growled. "You?"

Gamabunta snorted. "What do you take me for? A warmblood? I could've survived in that for hours. More importantly... That blast of fire: What's the ETA?"

"Soon," I said, not really considering how I could've known that. By now, my clones had definitely found Sasuke and would be bringing him back to us— I just hoped that seal hadn't driven him crazy. It... didn't have positive effects.

"Good," Gamabunta huffed drawing in a deep breath as he ran through the same set of seals he had used before, and shooting yet another stream of oil at the sand demon, "Damn Ichibi's almost impossible to disrupt without an elemental jutsu of some kind— though when your fire user does get here, it's going to be one _hell_ of an inferno!"

"One... tail..?" I murmured, stumbling over the unfamiliar term. Then, "Hey, that thing's not related to the Kyuubi, is it⁉"

"Tell me kid, said Gamabunta, jumping over the Ichibi's tail and striking at it in mid-air, all while managing a slightly incredulous tone of voice, "Don't they teach you that sort of thing in Ninja Academy these days?" He dodged another obsidian spear— "No, on second thought, don't answer that— I don't want to know." With a single, fluid motion he lashed out and successfully severed one of it's hands.

"There are nine tailed demons. They're incarnations of, in order, hate, cruelty, violence, terror, disdain, destruction, power, wrath, and rage! What we're battlin' right now is the Ichibi no Shukaku!"

I spotted an orange and black blur leaping from tree to tree.

"The Rikudo Sennin created it, but nobody really knows where it was before it appeared in the middle of Kaze no Kuni and began tearing the capital apart," that blur was momentarily disrupted, but another smoothly grabbed the black part and continued making the journey. Gamabunta meanwhile was doing... something... What⁉ I'm only human, I can't pay attention to that many things at once!

At any rate, the black and orange blur finally reached Gamabunta, and climbed up him, tossing Sasuke at me once it reached the top. I took a single step to the side, and Sasuke fell to the ground gracelessly. That... was _not_ good.

"One fire user, as requested!" The clone announced, as Sasuke regained his footing.

"About damn time," Gamabunta grunted "Get up to the front, Uchiha! It's time to teach a demon why you _do not_ _fuck _with the Toads of Mt. Myoboku! On the count of three!" Sasuke calmly took position as Gamabunta flashed through a set of hand seals, "One!" Sasuke walked slowly to the front of Gamabunta's head, moving through three seals himself, "Two!" They both took a deep breath in at the same moment, "Three!" Gamabunta shouted, completing the final seal of his oil technique and expelling another torrent of the stuff at the same moment as Sasuke shot a gigantic sustained stream of fire from his mouth. Sasuke completely ran out of stamina only few seconds later, but his job was already done, the flames from his jutsu wrapping around the oil and spreading forward with it, becoming a deadly flame-thrower.

We watched in mute, horrified fascination as the giant demon shrieked in pain as it's entire body was immolated in violent, unnaturally red flames, stumbling around and blind until it tripped over it's feet and sagged to the ground, subsiding. I took a shuddering breath and relaxed—

"Don't let your guard down just yet, kid," Gamabunta said, "Depending on the quality of that boy's seal... this ain't over by a long shot."

And fucking hell, was Gamabunta _right._

* * *

**********Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse! IT DREAMS.  
**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Sometimes, people write shadow clones using words like "it". I don't think that reflects their self-perception realistically. Then again, this is a series where using mystical energy to turn the moon into a giant projector screen is feasible so... Hm. Yeah. Author's discretion.

Also— Yes, Naruto applied Kamina's patented brand of therapy to Sasuke.


	4. Ch 3: The Black

** Chapter 3: The Black**

* * *

I tensed, and held still. For a long moment, there was nothing, save the heat of the fire consuming the sand demon's slowly burning corpse.

Then the ground began to shake, as a single, flaming mote rose from it's corpse. Gaara, his face all but melted off, his eyes once again human, smiled tightly.

And as he spoke, a writhing darkness fell from a hole cut into the sky.

"**Demonic Art: Lair of the Sand King.**"

"Kid! Contact the fox and get the fire user out of the area!"

I made a shadow clone and shouted out orders. It turned and ran, taking a now-unconcious Sasuke with it while at the same moment I thought, or spoke, or whatever the right verb is when you talk to a demon stored within you.

'_Hey! Bastard fox!_'

And then everything dissolved into darkness.

I landed in that selfsame sewer system, and the fox spoke without preamble, "**NO. GO AWAY.**"

"What? Come on! I though you liked chaos and destruction! This is your game!"

"**YOU HAVE NOT EVEN A SINGLE CONCEPT OF THE FORCES AT PLAY HERE. I WILL NOT HELP YOU BREAK THE FABRIC OF YOUR WORLD, SUCH A THING WOULD BE OUR DEATH.**"

"Then how do I defeat this thing⁉" I demanded, frustrated.

"**LOCATE THE SEAL ON SHUKAKU'S HUMAN. USE A NON-MODAL DISRUPTIO—"** The fox looked at me for a few moments, as if evaluating me. It seemed to come to a decision then continued, ** " JUST USE A BINDING LIKE THE OROCHIMARU USED ON YOU. IT WILL BE ENOUGH.**"

"But how do I—" I was back in the real world. "Fucking _fox_," I muttured angrily. Then, glancing at here the black thing had fallen from the sky.

_I saw but didn't see the thing because it was a hole that was nothing but I saw it so it couldn't be nothing that was like darkness and fluid but also solid and** The Black**—_

A torrent of the Kyuubi's chakra surged into me, and my vision cleared as I understood: I was looking at the truth of the sand demon sealed up inside of Gaara, and it was anathema to everything. Now, with the Kyuubi's own demonic chakra circulating through my system, I saw it's shape. A nest of black spines of something like obsidian, but _not_, arranged in an alien and hateful geometry. They were slowly spreading out, eating away at the forest, and in a low voice I asked, "Gamabunta? Do any toads know seals really well?"

But didn't get any reply. Then, it occurred to me that Gamabunta would be having the same problems I had had before the Kyuubi gave me enough of it's power to understand.

"_**GAMABUNTA!**_" I shouted, focusing my chakra into my voice and lungs. What came out of my mouth was more like an explosion than any coherent words— but it worked. The toad boss shivered for a second before shaking his head so violently that I was almost thrown off, then closing his eyes so he couldn't see the alien _thing_ consuming the forest in front of us.

"Did the fox give you anything?" He cut right to the chase.

"Just some advice. Are there any toads good with seals?"

"Fukusaku is the master. Do you really need him?"

"Unless you know what the fox meant by non-modal disruption? Yeah, I do."

"Non-modal wha— Yeah, I'll call him." Gamabunta said, and launched into a summoning jutsu, continuing it for a full fifteen seals beyond what I thought the summoning Jutsu contained.

"Fukusaku-sama, we need your aid," he said. Chakra flexed, and then... Nothing.

"What's wrong?" I shouted, feeling real worry for the first time since the battle started. Gamabunta grunted.

"...only Jiraiya has the right to summon Fukusaku-sama. All I can do is give him the Chakra he needs to make the trip, and hope he's in the mood."

"Kuso—!" I shouted, feeling frustration well up.

"Problem boys?" Asked an unfamiliar voice from behind my back. Gamabunta stiffened, and I whirled around. There, in a tiny black cloak, stood a toad that looked weirdly like the old man.

Remebering Gamabunta's respect, I spoke, "Fukusaku-sama, I'm the new toad summoner, Uzumaki Naruto."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Naruto-kun." He said, smiling. There, done, I satisfied politeness, now-

"As you can see, we have a bit of a demon problem."

Fukusaku leaned to one side, and froze momentarily before jerking back.

"Yes," he agreed, his tone flat, "You seem to have a rather serious one. Well— you asked for me, so what do I have that you need?"

I blinked. That was easier than I had thought it would be. But questioning good fortune was stupid, so I launched straight into my explanation. "My own demon is refusing to help. So, we need to get to the host, figure out it's seal, and—"

"Ah! Brilliant!" Fukusaku said, seemingly understanding the rest on his own, "Then, I will do my best. 'Bunta, you have my permission."

His permission? His permission for what? My question was soon answered when a palpable weight seemed to settle around Gamabunta, a sheer force of presence that was above and beyond anything I had ever felt before. Then, Gamabunta _moved_. It was so violently sudden that I just lost my footing, and fell down to the ground, forming some clones in the air to grab us and throw us up to absorb some of the velocity of our descent.

"My thanks," Fukusaku said once we had reached the ground, flashing through a series of hand seals. With a minor twist of Chakra, a set of fuda tags and a pen were summoned from wherever summoned things came from, and Fukusaku began to write, explaining as he went. "We don't know the modality of the target's seal, so we cant cause a contradiction error. Unfortunately, what that means is that I will only be able to provide you with..."

He paused, forming a half-ram seal as he completed a tag, "Four seal tags at most. Any more, and the exertion would be actively harmful to me. Now, summoner, you must understand: These seals are not solely for pacifying the demon container— once you engage, he'll begin using more demonic arts—" He completed another tag, "These seals are designed to negate such things. You must land one on him. The others, they exist that you might survive to do so." He completed the third tag, and began trembling, "Whatever you do, you must end the Shukaku's ability to perform demonic arts through the host. Even if it costs your life— that nest of corruption must be ended now. If it survives much longer..." He completed the last seal, sagging visibly as he did so, "Then this world may well be forfeit. Now, take the seals and my kit, and return to 'Bunta. Tell him you are ready. He will know what to do."

With that, Fukusaku's form wavered, and popped out of existence, leaving behind the sealing kit and tags. I picked up the tiny kit and closed it, stowing it in one pocket along with the complete tags, and placed the blank ones in another. Then I began to run back to Gamabunta— and it was actually easy, because the Ichibi seemed to have lost the ability to attack on multiple fronts the moment it had begun this... This... Whatever it was.

Gamabunta was fighting a mindless swarm of black, shapeless projections, his eyes closed but somehow not causing him to be any less effective. As I approached, his posture shifted subtly, and he made a useless-looking swipe with his blade, the entire thing not even coming close to the nest of thorns-but they all shattered three seconds later.

"Kid, hop on!" He shouted, and I did so, running up his back. "Did Fukusaku come through?"

"He did. He also said to tell you that... I was ready? I think?"

Somewhere in the background of my consciousness, roaring laugher echoed "Jump into my hand and grab my knife, kid—" I did, and an absolutely _oceanic_ amount of the heavy presence gathered around the knife a Gamabunta continued, "and whatever you do..."

Gamabunta wound up his arms as a titanic, pure-obsidian shukaku with blazing red eyes began to form from the ground-

"_**DON'T LET GO!**_"

And then Gamabunta threw his knife directly at the hole in the sky.

* * *

******Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse! IT HUNGERS.  
**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I have a confession to make. The concept of this story is at least 20% Naruto, with more insanely badass fight scenes.

Also, first person to figure out what my muse is wins absolutely nothing. So there's some incentive for you.


	5. Ch 4: The Empty Sands

**Chapter Four: The Empty Sands**

* * *

There are two ways something can travel through the air. The first is flying— free motion, control of where you are and what you're doing. The second is a ballistic trajectory.

What I was doing was in no way flying.

Gamabunta's knife shot through the air and I held onto it for dear life, crossing over the next of black lines and heading full tilt into the maw of the black Ichibi. I had almost let go, then, before I took a look below me, saw what waited, and strengthened my resolve. Then, my chance was gone as the titanic monster closed it's jaws around me.

Gamabunta's knife struck the back of it's through, and listen-— there aren't really any words to describe what happened next. What Gamabunta had done to the knife was to reinforce it with something that wasn't really chakra, but more like the energy of the world and life itself. The Ichibi on the other hand. Well.

What I saw as obsidian, wasn't. What humans feel as demonic chakra, isn't.

Gamabunta's knife plunged through the alien world that was the obsidian Ichibi, and plunged out of the back of it's neck loosing most of it's presence as it did so, but also not being absorbed. And now, unmolested by any further interuption, it began to fall.

But not down, to the ground.

Down, the the hole in the sky.

And it began with the destruction of the sky. Black holes were burned into it, as it was fragmented and frayed before it vanished completely, leaving only a nothing-coloured blur. Deep fractures to that same blur ran through the ground next, and the leaves on the trees wilted and died as they came.

You have to understand. It wasn't something limited to the area around the hole. It happened everywhere, and to everything. I fell into the wound into the sky, and _watched the world die_.

At some point, something changed. Vanished. I couldn't tell you what then, and I still can't put my finger on it to this day, but whatever it was, the world lost an entire dimension of depth. And I don't mean, something simple, like depth. It was something deeper than that. More pervasive.

Shortly after that, space ceased to matter.

Then, time ceased to exist.**************  
**

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

After an undefined non-moment, the next moment occurred, and I slammed into a wall of sand and was thrown from Gamabunta's knife onto it.

Actually, I realized, it was the ground... Which made absolutely no sense. I had been easily fifty metres in the air when I had run up against that _thing_ that the Ichibi had come from.

Still dazed from the travel, I pushed myself to my feet and almost stumbled before catching myself. That was when I first saw the true nature of the place I was in.

Mishapen mirrors. Malformed lenses. Those are the only ways I can think to explain what it was like. I was standing in a desert. The sky was too blue. The sun was too large. The light was too piercing.

And, you don't understand what I mean when I say that. I'm not saying the sky was _extremely_ blue. I'm saying it was as far beyond blue as blue is beyond black or white. I'm not saying the sun was _enormous._ I'm saying that no matter how much you tried to look away, it would always be shining into the corners of your eyes. I'm not saying the light was _incredibly _bright. I'm saying that it passed straight through me, only loosing a bit of it's strength.

I had almost no shadow.

As Gamabunta's knife somehow rusted into sand, the Kyuubi's chakra pulsed, and I saw them: The sand on the ground was covered in pulsing black veins of obsidian.

I understood.

This was the Ichibi no Shukaku expressed as a world.

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

Time was strange there. It flexed, and loosened. Shifted, and slowed. Once, it even moved in reverse, even though I continued to walk forward. I looked behind myself after that, and for a few brief moments, there were two of my walking the desert, before the rewind hit the me behind me.

Honestly, I just wanted to find Gaara, seal him and see him dead— but it's hard to find someone without any frame of reference. So, I just walked through the endless, bleak, empty desert. Sometimes when I remember it, that time feels like it was only seconds of my life. Other times, it feels larger than I ever actually lived. I know that's not really the case, if I had really spent so long inside, My hair would have grown, or I would have died of starvation and thirst.

Doesn't help. When time blows against you like a gale, and throws you off into the depths of eternity, it leaves it's mark. What I experienced in that world wasn't meant for mortal minds. Luckily, thanks to my blood, it isn't strictly as such... But still, I'm sure that if I hadn't been a Jinchuuriki, I never would've made it out alive. Demon chakra carries it's own distortions, and so long as you use it, those carry over into your own mind— What I saw as a mass of all-consuming obsidian, Gamabunta and Fukusaku couldn't even comprehend.

What is a demon?

And evil being?

Hm.

Then, how would you define _evil_?

Beings that act with malevolence?

Then, you are wrong. Malevolence is the purview of man far more than demons— after all, a demon kills because demons kill. Men kill for whatever reason they choose— from, "It was necessary." to, "Hell, I just felt like it!"

Demons are not malevolent.

They are born from it though.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I just had the _infinite_ pleasure of rewriting this chapter for the third time. ASFDDFDASADSAFSAGDFGADF

I'll probably come back and improve the hell out of this when I'm less fed up with it. At least get it back to the level of quality the second rewrite was at, anyway.


	6. Ch 5: Alpha against Omega

_Moonspeak Glossolalia  
_

_Sabaku: Depends on context. The actual kanji used are different depending on technique. This is something Kishimoto implemented. For Sabaku Kyu, Sabaku means Sand Binding, for Sabaku Shura, Sabaku means Sand Waterfall.  
_

_Kyu: Coffin  
_

_Shura: A scene of carnage._

_Kawarimi: Substitution  
_

* * *

**Chapter Five: Alpha against Omega  
**

* * *

After spending both longer than the lifespan of the universe and negative zero seconds wandering the desert of the Ichibi no Shukaku, I came upon an obsidian mesa. I stopped, and stared at it... And stared at it some more. My throat was parched, and my legs were weary. A faint ache emanated from my seal— even the fox was growing tired.

Even so, even though I was at my utmost limits, I knew better than to just climb the thing. Instead, I threw a kunai at it, which bounced off, and landed face-first in the sand.

I waited, ten... twenty... thirty seconds. Nothing.

Or maybe only nothing that responded to inanimate objects. Testing that theory, I made a shadow clone and sent it forward. No response.

There was nothing for it. I took a single cautious step forward, then another, and another. I was halfway to the mesa when it shuddered, and began to shrink in on itself, changing shape into...

..._the hell_? Before me stood a giant, obsidian, scale model of the Chuunin exam finals stadium.

"He really is completely insane..." I muttered under my breath, and made my way in. The structure of the building was the same as in the real world, and I didn't waste time checking for traps. Whether I walked through the inside, or along the walls, If Gaara chose to kill me, there would be nothing I could do about it while I was close to this thing.

I made it into the interior of the ring without incident.

But... wait, wasn't the pit in the real thing deeper? And also, the sand on the ground was... _wrong._

I wasn't given much time to think about it though— In a flicker of sand, Gaara appeared.

He looked _horrible_.

Half melted skin hung from his face, obsidian veins slowly crossing over the damage, subsuming his skin and then slowly eating it away. His red hair came only in loosely scattered patches, and one of his eyes was just _gone._

_He was smiling_.

And then, he focused on me. "You..." He muttered, "You shouldn't have survived this far. What are you?"

I didn't answer. Keeping him talking wouldn't do anything for me.

But Gaara didn't like my silence.

"Answer me! Sabaku Kyu!"

Revision: Saying something had been the only thing keeping him from springing the actual trap. With a curse, I jumped against to the wall, and ran up it as the floor, actually Gaara's own sand, shot towards me with downright terrifying speed, far faster than it had ever moved before.

There was no way I could escape. This was _not_ the same Gaara that I had fought outside. The speed, the fluidity, even the paths it took were on a whole different level from what Gaara had previously been capable of. It took everything the Kyuubi had to sustain my presence here, but the Ichibi gave Gaara everything he needed to succeed against me— He had me dead to rights... so I did the shinobi thing and _cheated_.

Crossing my fingers, I quickly made a shadow clone on the other side of the arena and, performing a Kawarimi with it, exchanged locations. I almost didn't make it. It had never occurred to me that my clones would be as vulnerable to this world as Gamabunta's knife, but they definitely were, and somehow the sheer pain of being torn apart into the sand that made this world was transmitted back to me. I stumbled, and in that moment, was almost consumed by Gaara's sand once more as he screamed, "_WHY DO YOU STILL EXIST⁉_"

I pushed myself out of the way not nearly fast enough to escape, and in that moment, the Kyuubi made it's move.

_Without_ telling me of course. Not that knowing would have helped.

It felt like the gates of hell opened.

Any semblance of rational thought disappeared.

There was no I. There was no me. There was no self. There was rage. Something a bit like pain, agony in the background, but dulled a thousand time by the sheer colour of the emotion that I had been sublimated into.

I saw my enemy.

I charged.

A seething cloak of pure force surrounded me, tinged a slowly deepening crimson that edged into the black of rotten blood, a shield of sand forming in front of me that I simply melted through as if it wasn't even there. The sand at my feet churned, becoming glass wherever I stepped, and it _didn't_ change back after I passed it. The enemy shouted, and the arena itself twisted and shook as it transformed into another of those obsidian copies of the first, and began to fire spars of black rock at me.

And mentally? I laughed at it's insignificant efforts.

Instead of dodging, I stopped moving entirely, and began to call my own law into this world, as slowly, a black sphere formed against the sky. Stretching out my hand as my chest was run through by one of the First's spears, I lowered it, guiding down until it was in alignment with the form of my degenerate sibling. Slowly, it shrunk into a single point of transfinite blackness as my arm was run though, and then again, and again, and _again_.

Fear.

As it should be.

For a single moment, all of my chakra exponentiated, and all of the spears shattered as they were overcome by the force of my presence. The sphere flashed white, before distneding outwards, cracking at the seams. For an instant, something in me screamed for restraint. In the next instant, it was far, far too late.

An apocalypse was born before me, and for a single moment, the world was lit brighter than the sun.

* * *

**************************Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse! IT IS THE DOOR.**

* * *

**Author's Notes **

Next Chapter should be out within an hour or so, and actually concludes the fight.

Silver Winged King: You're reading Naruto in an AU that's been pulled together from aspects of several other projects that will never see the light of day. I'm using some vocabulary for the Nasuverse, but the idea of bijuu expressed as a worlds predates my discovery of the Nasuverse by a few months. Since I'm freewriting, I can't say for certain if more elements of the Nasuverse will ever appear, but I doubt it. I have a fairly good idea of where I'm going with this story. Glad you like what I've done so far, and thanks for the encouragement and review!

PastaSentient: I'm happy to hear that you've enjoyed the story so far, and I certainly will. Thanks for your review!

roboguy45: Nah, lol. Thanks for reviewing~!


	7. Ch 6: The Last Seal

**Chapter Six: The Last Seal**

* * *

The world as you see it is not the world as it is. It is a shape, a form, a skein and a veil stretched over the formless shape of the truth, a shadow of smooth fabric that is what you make of it.

Logic. Imposition.

Vague dusts of providence that condense into ideas, and thus into names.

Names, spoken by people and given form by latent intentionality in the dreams of humankind.

Gods, who become their names, proxies for human hopes with the function of recreating the conditions that gave birth to them.

This is the truth of the phenomena that we call "Kami". Kami of health, to prevent plagues. Kami of rains, to prevent drought. Kami of the sun, to ensure it rises. Kami of the world, to ensure that it continues on.

Gods, worshipped by humans thus become strong. Nature, disregarded by all but the wise, frays at the seams.

Demons, reviled by humans, outside of nature, are something else altogether.

If Kami are patches on the fabric this world, the _Tenma_ are the frays and the tears on the edges.

The world as you see it is not the world as it is.

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

Light beyond the concept of light lanced forth, _annihilated_ the obsidian copy of the Ichibi, and carved a valley into the heart of the world, and Shukaku who the world was screamed.

I want you to imagine a nightmare condensed into discord, wrapped into the bubbling cough of a plague victim and their rattling breath as their body fights death without even the slightest chance of success. I want you to imagine the soft weeping of an abused child, the casual hate in the voice of their abuser. I want you to imagine the voices of your loved ones, begging you to save them and then your own horrified lamentation when you _fail_.

I want you to imagine the most horrifying sound you possibly can, and then, _think of something worse_.

That idea in your head holds not even a candle to the absolute anathema that was Shukaku's Voice.

It _hurt. _Even through the rage that I had become, it lanced out and empathized with me as I saw, for the smallest moment, a glimpse of the world through Shukaku's mind. And as I did, The piercing light dimmed, the over-blue sky darkened into a regular colour, and the sun collapsed into actual light, as opposed to a looming thing that you could never take your eyes off of.

More slowly, but just as inevitably, the languidly pulsing obsidian disintegrated. All of it. And, as it went, my sanity returned, the Kyuubi's chakra pulling out of my system and leaving me sore, but whole.

The message was clear: From here on out, I was on my own. And what went unsaid: The fox had, with it's attack, somehow cancelled out the unnatural properties of this world, and in doing so, had given me back my only real advantage. I wasn't going to try summoning here, but still...

I formed my fingers into a familiar cross, and an army of shadow clones blurred into existence, and stayed that way.

It was time.

Gaara, having somehow survived the apocalypse that was the Kyuubi's attack slowly walked towards me, over the gaping, melted canyon that had been cut into the ground. For my part, I substituted myself with the shadow clone furthest away from the canyon, and retreated a little bit further still. My clones tried to attack Gaara en masse, but he just walked through them like they weren't even there. Whatever it was about this world that boosted his combat abilities, the damage that the Kyuubi had done hadn't broken it.

Eventually, he made it through my army, and slowly walked down to the ground— and stopped. Ten meters separated us, but that was all.

"—you," Gaara began, "What _are_ you?"

"I don't know if people like us have a name," I answered, "But I'm the same kind of being as you are. A human with a demon sealed inside. I told you back at the hospital, didn't I?"

Gaara took a step, and I mirrored it, circling him even as he slowly circled me, closing the distance between us one step at a time.

"A counterpart," he said, laughing slightly, "But unworthy. You don't understand anything."

"When I understood what you were," I said, slowly beginning drawing in, "I thought I had found someone like me. Who I could truly call a friend."

"Che." Gaara sneered, "As if I'd let you stab me in the back."

"I was deluded." I agreed, "After you killed Konohamaru, I knew. Between us..."

"There can be no understanding." We both said it.

I lunged at Gaara even as he lunged at me, forming a clones and substituting with them, never staying in the same place for more than a few seconds as Gaara steadily moved through a set of horribly warped, asymmetrical hand seals.

"**Demonic Art: Sabaku Shura!**"

And a web of the Ichibi's obsidian shot out from Gaara's body, the only place it had managed to remain intact after the Kyuubi's devastating attack. The web expanded outwards, almost touching me before it slowed to a halt, and thousands of tiny, crystalline spikes grew from it's surface. In that moment, I decided that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, palmed an anti-demon tag, and lunged forward, connecting with the net. There was a momentary sense of... discontinuity, interruption, _incompletion_, and the web simply fell apart, taking good portions of Gaara's pseudo-flesh with it

"You!" I shouted, my clones shouted as I charged in through a momentary hole in his absolute defence, "Are everything I refuse to ever become!"

Gaara snarled, making a set of sharp, twisting motions with his hands and suddenly the sky grew dark— I glanced up, and the sun had eclipsed, the fiery corona surrounding it seeming to descend... kuso! It actually was descending!

And Gaara spoke. "You... Are every weakness I ever threw away."

I grabbed one of Fukusaku's sealing tags, and threw it at the sunfire— and it took some of it but not all. I grabbed the next, and threw it as well, sealing the last of the flames. Only one tag left-!

"Is kindness a weakness? Honor? _Restraint⁉_"

"Those things don't exist to begin with!" Gaara shouted, making several more hand gestures, "Friends only exist to stab you in the back!" Miniature Ichibi burst out of the ground, charging at me with loping, alien grace. "Enemies only breathe to stab you in the heart!" He drew to obsidian swords from nothing, and leapt into the fray himself. "By killing others, they can't kill me later!" The same obsidian armour that had covered the Ichibi in Gaara's body back in the real world burst out of Gaara skin, and he shouted, "**Demonic Art! _MIRAGE OF THE DESERT WIND!_**"

I formed the last army of clones that I had in me, drew two fuuma shuriken, and engaged.

It was a dance— All battles between two equally skilled fighters are, and I was as much an amateur at using fuuma shuriken at close range as he was with his swords. Oh yes, it was a dance, but there wasn't anything like grace in it. Just killing blow, after killing blow, after killing blow. All the while, the eclipsed sun shone down on us, like a single, titanic eye, watching as he lashed out and I parried, as my clones fought and died by the dozens to contain the small Ichibi, as he danced across the desert sands, Gaara supported by them, and I only matching him with the the last dregs of chakra that I had.

Time ceased to exist, and in a moment, in a thousand years, he lunged and I dodged, I struck and he parried, I decided to live, and live, and live, and he decided to kill me, and kill me, and kill me— and then we both lost our footing, and I tumbled to the ground, landing on top of him— and my hands found his throat, even as his hands found mine.

Then a shadow loomed over me, and I remembered a single, simple fact. I had no more Kage Bunshin.

The timelessness shattered, and in a single instant the tail of one of the small Ichibi burst into speed, it's wickedly barbed tip finding it's way into my stomach, skewering me and jerking me out of Gaara's grasp.

I coughed, weakly, and blood— my blood fell to the sand as Gaara began to laugh.

"Hehehahahahahahahahahaha— _Yes_. That's right." He dragged himself to his feet, his eyes bloodshot behind their obsidian visor. "Die, Uzumaki Naruto. Die, and then I'll kill your friends, then their families— then I'll destroy your village before burning this country to ashes, and from there, turning the entire world to nothing! Then I can live alone forever! Then I'll be content." He mumbled something— "..._safe_"

Weakly, I motioned to him to come over. Before I died, I had one last thing I needed to say. And he came, slowly, drawing it out, savouring his victory— the verification of his existence.

There were _no words_ for how _badly_ I had fucked this up.

"Gaara..." I whispered, as he leaned over me, completely focused on my face.

"That's not..." There were no words for how badly I had fucked this up. _But..._

"what it means..."

I. had. _not_. _**lost**_.

"**_TO LIVE!_**" I roared, and in a single fluid motion, I grabbed the final anti-demon tag, and slammed it onto his chest.

Everything went white.

* * *

-Coda-  
**ichibi**

**I was a wanderer.** A nomad. A member of a tribe. We walked the desert, and we were it's heirs, inheritors of all that it was and had within it. In the millenial rhythms of our caravans and the everchanging cavalcade of faces, young that grew old, and died— I was there. Alone, unchanging. Always walking amongst and amidst the people. Sometimes, one would catch a glimpse of me, but just as often they would dismiss it as nothing.

I walked ahead. I walked behind. I discovered, and guided the eyes of scouts to those discoveries, and the people rejoiced, and celebrated each one and gave thanks to their god— a thanks I accepted, even if it wasn't meant for me.

Then, one day, another tribe.

Bodies littered the desert like the debris of a careless child. I wandered between them, crying, mourning. Swearing revenge.

And my vengeance was terrible. The other tribe was larger, and they had nothing like me within their midst. No god to save them from another. And even as I weakened, I walked among them, guiding them to thirst, leading their scouts to death, and I watched, always giving them just enough water to see the next day, but only that much. And the hunger whittled they bodies down to grotesque shells of flesh pulled taut over a frame of bones.

They died alone— every last one of them. That was the way of their people, and I made sure it was enforced even unto the last one.

And then, it was done. Devoid of a purpose now, for the very first time I did not know what to do.

The sun beat down upon me. Harsh, unforgiving.

The sky was clear.

Devoid of anything.

I had been walking, walking for so long, the slow winds behind me constantly erasing my footsteps as I climbed one dune to find only another, and another in my path.

Endlessly.

I marched, and there was no time, no place, no concept of anything but this endless, eternal hell of walking forward.

To where?

Nowhere.

Out there, in the desert, I screamed.

_And it was forever._

* * *

The secondary seal glowed brilliantly white, burning itself through the obsidian armour and into Gaara's skin with a hiss. As it faded into black ink, the roar of the Shukaku's vengeance forestalled echoed across the world it had become.

And then, like a film run in reverse, holes were torn in the sky, and the ground cracked, the sand draining into a nothingness coloured blur. Somehow, I got lucky until the last second, and then, finally, I fell into that void , empty of anything, Space ceasing, Time breaking.

Then, the nothingness itself itself cracked, then shattered, giving way to the whitish colour of the more humid skies over Konoha, the final fragments of Shukaku's desert blue evicted from reality, and we fell from on high.

I can't tell you how high, but from where we were, I wouldn't even need to do any more work— the fall itself would be lethal. So, I closed my eyes, and waited. I had no strength left to me. My chakra pathways were burnt out. I couldn't save myself. But at least, Gaara was going to die.

I had done it.

I had won.

**************⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍**

If this were a work of fiction, I would end the narrative here. It has all the makings of a fine tragedy, don't you think? The hero avenges a wrongful death, and strikes down a monster at the cost of his own life. Neat. Clean. No loose ends.

_But this isn't some picture-book fairytale_.

A red-green-grey blur shot out of nowhere and caught us both, taking us down to the ground. Numb with shock, I realized that it was Jiraiya. He did some kind of seal-less wind jutsu, and he both came down to a soft landing, dropping Gaara and lowering me slightly more gently. Somehow, I was alive. The hole in my chest where the Ichibi had run me through had ceased to exist.

"You did good, kid." He said, forgoing the use of his normal title for me— brat. "With the Ichibi's container incapacitated, the invasion forces have begun to withdraw. You've pretty much saved the village. As for Gaara here," He flashed me a grin, "He'll be a prisoner of war, but if all goes well, he'll be fine."

I couldn't accept it. it's only natural I couldn't accept it— Konohamaru was dead, _dead_, no mercy, but— Gaara would live... _and he thought I'd be happy__⁉_

"Why..." I whispered.

Jiraiya looked surprised for a moment, then slightly scowled, "Oi, brat, you don't think we can just ignore the fact that he was an enemy soldie—"

"_WHY DIDN'T YOU LET HIM DIE⁉_" I shouted.

Surprise. Disappointment. Resignation. Those were the emotions that danced across Jiraiya's face in the long seconds after I had shouted him down.

"Jinchuuriki." Jiraiya said it like a curse, then flicked through three hand seals. Darkness descended upon my world, and with that, my battle against Sabaku no Gaara at long last came to an end.

* * *

******************************Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse!  
**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Oh god, I finally finished the arc. Fucking hell yes! I'm so glad that I won't have to write another ten thousand words of fight scene for a while.

The mindfuck that was Ichibi's Coda will be explained within the next 30k words. Promise.

Moving on past comment on this chapter in particular, to the actual story itself...

I think I have two distinct modes of editing. Seriously, I edited the previous chapter, and thought it was good. Then, I looked back at it an hour later, and found out that I had made something like twenty mistakes. I've uploaded a fixed version, and I've done my best not to make the same mistake with this chapter.

roboguy45: It wasn't quite clear in the chapter, but Naruto was effectively overshadowed by the Kyuubi's mind when he did all of that insane stuff. Naruto's bloodline comes into effect in the following chapter, but it's not actually a weapon of mass destruction.


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